Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

Page 19 text:

Each leaf in a pile of leaves, Each child in a group of children, Each adult in a group of men and women. One leaf separate from the rest, One child by himself, One man pursuing truth. It is the separate leaf-the child-the man They represent what those combined Are unable to: They are what the others Cannot be. Wendy Hughes Krueger Angela Krawetz ONE IN THE SAME Raindrops . . . gumdrops Wicked WITCH ONE IN THE SAME Raindrops . . . gumdrops Wicked Witch . . . Mother Goose Scarlet . . . pink Sniffle, sniff. . . ho, ho, hee Willowy Sarah Sorrow and plump jenny Joy Are one and the same in the sandbox. 15

Page 18 text:

Cecily Ann johns on The Rain Sheila Marie Kenyon The rain makes solemn tree guards limp And, like some wicked, childish imp, Plays horrid games upon the grass With wet and slippery molten glass. The rain twists clammy fingers o'er The wind harp, choking its brave roar To sickly spurts of damp unease That barely stir the mourning trees. The rain soaks through the mortal skin And lets the misty vapors in That enervatc the body's kind . . . Rain is the weeping of the mind. 14

Page 20 text:

A Burden For The Young War takes only the young, The pride of the nation Leaving the old embittered who shaped the To question and do little else. Is is fair that new lives must be sacrificed For quarrels shaped before their time? Yes, with their treasured inheritance Comes the burden which must always Jane Ellen Leavitt Be put first if it is to be preserved. Yes, it is that important. The weeds sprouted from the cracks of the sidewalk and made it nearly impossible to discern what was path and what was lawn. As one approached the steps, it was obvious that no one cared. The corners of one step were chipped off and little boys had scrib- bled on them. I opened the screen door which was banging from Judith Corning Leslie only one hinge and was being batted about by the wind. Upon entering the house I saw that there were cobwebs covering the ceiling and the furniture was covered with dust. The fireplace seemed to be choking with ashes. I started upstairs to my parents' bedroom only to find the stairs filled with huge holes. I won- dered how anyone could have done this to the house I loved. I saw that in my mother's room the floor was at a slant. In the closets hung the clothes of a van- ished age, the long dresses and stuffed shirts of my parents' time. Suddenly I had to go. I walked slowly down the stairs trying to remember the house as it had been. fight I went outside, stopped for my last look, and left. 16